COUNTERFEIT
IV
Immature and vile – that's what she thought of him as, immature and vile. Draco sighed, leaning back on his chair. Turning his head he watched the object of his affection walk briskly out of the library doors. He stood up and slowly slouched back to his Slytherin mates.
"Where'd you go?" Blaise asked, watching as Draco sat down across from him. Draco shrugged, silent. "Do you think I'm immature?" He asked instead. Blaise stared, caught off guard. "Do I think you're what?"
"Do you think I'm immature?" Draco repeated slowly, impatient. Blaise frowned and shook his head. "No," he replied easily, "I don't think so."
"I do." Came scoff from down the table. Draco scowled. He looked over. The cinnamon haired boy grinned up at Draco. "I think you're not only immature, but also quite insensitive, over-confident and oddly sadistic."
"Ouch." Blaise cringed. Crabbe laughed nervously. Draco didn't flinch. He scooted over to sit beside the boy. He couldn't remember his name at the moment, but he knows the first Draco thought highly of him – something rare and usual indeed.
"Do you really?" Draco asked, looking at the boy straight in the eye. The boy nodded.
"But then again…I used to think that you were egotistical, spoiled and cowardly," the boy said, smiling sweetly. Draco tensed.
"What do you mean, you used to think?" Draco asked sharply.
"Nothing," the boy shrugged as he picked up his books and stood up. "It's just a theory of mine, it might be wrong…but then again…they hardly are. Oh, and Dumbledore changed the password to his office…something about an uninvited visitor. I do believe he's on to you." The boy threw laughingly over his shoulder.
Draco stared after him, shock etched into every pigment of skin on his face.
"I…can't…believe…ugh! That bastard!" Draco turned to Blaise, who artfully covered a snicker with a sneeze. Draco whacked him along the side of his head anyway.
"Shut up, Zabini!" He warned, standing up. "And if you tell anyone…"
"Don't worry, I won't." Blaise promised, smiling as he crossed his heart with two fingers.
"Yeah, ha, ha. Real funny, fuckface," Draco spat as he shouldered his book bag, walking toward the library exit. "May God smite your idiot ass."
Blaise's booming laugh escorted Draco out of the library, leaving a perfect scowl on his fine-featured face.
---
Another week passed since then, and the beautiful autumn month of September ended, bringing in chilly October…the only problem was, October wasn't chilly at all.
Draco rolled up his sleeves, shutting his eyes against the bright sun leaking through the dungeon windows. October is starting out unusually warm. Many students ditched their long black cloaks. Pretty much all of the female population dusted off their skirts and pulled them on like they did in the summer months.
Draco was sweating from an afternoon baking in the greenhouses. He officially hates Herbology. He passed the Quidditch fields on his way back to his dorm, only to be mobbed by green clad gremlins on brooms. This was the first year Draco wasn't on the Quidditch team ever since he was legitimately allowed in his second year. This may be a result of the combination of the fact that he doesn't have time, and the ever-embarrassing he doesn't know how. Sticking him on a broom would have been very likely to be fatal to him and everyone within a forty-meter radius.
Now, safe in his dorm, Draco stretched and yawned, pulling off his tie. He threw it onto the ground and headed towards the showers.
A loud tapping sounded behind him. Draco turned. Four owls stood on the window ledge, hooting to be let in. Draco hurried over and unlatched the window. The owls fluttered in, each bringing with him a heavy, squat box. They dropped their load on Draco's bed and disappeared out the window from where they came.
Draco ripped open the brown paper wrappings of the box closest to him and pulled off its lid. Peering inside, Draco smiled – a genuine but somewhat frightening smile. If we add some fangs he could be passed off as a vampire.
---
"Hogsmeade weekend coming up, Hermione."
Hermione looked up from her Astrology chart. Ron was hovering over her, trying to balance a thick transfiguration textbook on his head. "Yeah," Hermione shrugged. "So?"
"Well…you coming?"
Hermione looked around. "Where's Harry?" she asked. Ron began shaking his head, but stopped when the textbook wobbled dangerously. "Dunno, Dumbledore called him up an hour ago. Haven't seen him since," Ron replied. The book wobbled again and fell with a thump. Hermione looked up in annoyance. "Pick that up, Ron, or Madam Pince'll have a fit." She snapped. But something about Ron's expression made her forget what she was going to say next. "Ron? What is it?" Hermione followed Ron's gaze and turned around in her seat.
Behind her was the figure of Harry, walking towards them. And next to him was none other than Gregory Goyle, chattering away to Harry as if they were old friends. Hermione's jaw dropped. Goyle flopped onto the seat next to her, still going on and on about whatever it was that he was going on about. Hermione was too bothered to listen. She looked over at Harry, who looked just as helpless and confused as she felt.
"What do you want?" Ron asked the thickset boy coldly. He got over his shock fast, Hermione thought.
"What do I want?" Goyle tilted his head, as if trying to remember something important. "Hm…I can't seem to remember…ah! Right." He turned to Hermione, "Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow, are you going, Hermione?"
"Maybe," Hermione said slowly and cautiously.
"'Cause, if you are, just write me a note, I want to show you something," Goyle smiled happily and rose from his seat. Seconds later he had already skipped out the library doors, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione gawking after him.
Harry frowned. "…Wait, Hermione…did Goyle just ask you out?"
"Are you all blind or are you just pretending?" Hermione snapped, turning to her stunned friends, "Didn't anyone notice what he wore on his chest?"
"…No…"
"Terry Boot's Head Boy badge!" Hermione leapt up and began cramming her books into her school bag. "I'm going to find Terry." And she was gone…
None of them noticed a slender figure hiding behind the bookcase next to where they sat. Draco Malfoy was pissing himself laughing, his stomach about to explode from choking the laughter down so he wont be heard. He raised the round vial of Polyjuice Potion to his face, hand shaking. "Yup, it works alright." Draco wiped an invisible tear from his eye. "I'm going to have some serious fun this weekend."
---
Honeydukes was flooded with students. Ron had to brandish his raspberry liquorish wands in front of him to get through. Hermione followed close behind, waving goodbye to Harry and Ginny over the crowd.
"Let's go to Three Broomsticks," Ron suggested when they had finally squeezed out of the sweets shop. They headed down the dirt-paved road. While walking, Ron's hand brushed by Hermione's. Not surprising, as they walked quite close together. Ron blushed scarlet and turned away in embarrassment, Hermione, however, had the oddest sensation of wanting to puke.
Ron likes her. He really, really, likes her. And she feels awfully guilty for leading him on when she wasn't the least bit interested. Maybe she was, quite a while ago. But something happened along the way…something named Malfoy.
Ron's hand somehow found itself wrapped around Hermione's. She wanted to pull away, but it seemed rude, so she swallowed her discomfort and pretended his hand wasn't there. But it's really hard – you know, with his hand sweating like a pig and all that, but she endured it, telling herself to suck it up.
That all changed, however, when moments later, Ron's hand quietly left Hermione's and traveled across her waist.
Okay.
That's enough.
Hermione scowled and looked over at Ron. She twisted her body slightly, and his grip around her waist loosened. Ron looked over at her, startled…hurt.
He stopped walking, and stared at her. Hermione made herself stare back. She felt extremely uncomfortable. They didn't speak.
The awkward silence was shattered by Neville, who ran towards them, waving his hands while shouting something incomprehensible. His crimson face suggested that he ran a long way. But when he reached them, he wasn't panting, or even breathing hard, Hermione noted with surprise.
"Terry!" Neville shouted. His voice was lower than usual.
Hermione frowned , alert. "What about Terry, Neville?"
Neville didn't answer. He pranced around Hermione and Ron with agility that neither classmate knew he was capable of, still waving his arms. "Terry!" he shouted again, one arm smacking Ron on the face in mid-wave. "Help!" Neville finally managed to wheeze, pointing to the Three Broomsticks down the road.
Sensing trouble, Ron started running towards the drink shop, leaving Hermione and Neville in his dust. He's angry, Hermione concluded in annoyance. She made to follow him.
Neville, however, managed to trip over his own foot and he crashed into Hermione. They toppled over and fell as a heap onto the ground. Hermione groaned in pain as she sat up. Neville likewise, but stumbled and fell again, his hands reached toward Hermione, seeking balance.
Hermione was caught unawares by the sudden flapping hands coming her way.
One landed on her chest.
Hermione flinched.
Neville, however, didn't seem to notice. He continued trying to ease himself up from the ground using Hermione's breast as support.
"NEVILLE!" Hermione screeched, feeling utterly disgusted and very, very violated. Neville looked up. Hermione swore she saw the sides of his mouth twitch, as if he was trying to resist the urge to smile. His hand dropped to his side.
"Yeah?" Neville looked at her, innocent and wide-eyed. Hermione breathed in, trying to calm herself. She shook her head, arms folded across her front defensively.
"Nothing. Never mind," she muttered. Neville nodded and stood up, holding his hand out to help Hermione, who wrinkled up her nose and looked the other way. She got up by herself, eyes lowered to the ground, trying to forget the little incident, but telltale roses of humiliation bloomed upon her cheeks. She swallowed and looked up.
"Wh–" She stopped abruptly. Neville was gone.
Suspicion narrowed Hermione's eyes. What the hell just happened?
She spun around, scanning the little crowds of wizards for Neville. Nothing. She turned back just in time to see Ron hurrying towards her.
"What happened to Terry?" Hermione asked. Ron turned scarlet.
"Other than being scared half to death by me running in on him in the bathroom? Nothing." He said tensely. Hermione allowed herself a smile.
"Where Neville anyways?" Ron asked spitefully, glancing around. Hermione shook her head.
"I don't know," she said slowly, decisively.
Ron fell silent. The awkwardness that Neville disturbed returned. Hermione looked away.
"I'll go find him," Hermione told him, and took off, escaping the awkwardness.
She quickly rounded the end of the dirt road, carefully avoided the swelling crowd outside Honeydukes and turned the corner into another street. It was surprisingly very empty, save a pair of sixth year Gryffindor girls ogling at a richly colored dress robe from a store window. She recognized them as Ginny's friends.
Hermione stopped with a start. She took the wrong turn, dead end. She turned to head back and was smothered against a very broad chest. "Oomph!" A startled gasp escaped her. Hermione looked up to see the smiling face of Seamus Finnigan.
"Oh! Hello Se–" Hermione began, but her words were cut short by Seamus's lips, pressed against her own. Before Hermione realized what was happening, Seamus's tongue was against her lips, his hands massaging her back. "Hmmph!" Was all Hermione could muster. Her legs went jelloid, and her arms were pinned to her side by Seamus's arms enfolded around her.
The kiss ended as quickly and as unexpectedly as it began. It took Hermione a while to figure out that his lips weren't against hers anymore. Seamus held Hermione tightly for a short moment, his head bent and his lips against her neck.
"You're awesome!" He exclaimed happily, muffled by her hair. Then he was gone, sprinting back down the road. He let out a happy whoop as he turned the corner, jumping high into the air.
Hermione stared after him in shock. Her brain screamed at her to run after him and demand an explanation. Hermione took one step.
Then she collapsed onto the ground.
Okay, fine. Maybe after she gathered herself. Hermione thought as the dusty texture of the road leapt up to meet her for the second time.
---
When Hermione got back to the main road she was in the worst mood she has been in since the first day of school, when Professor McGonagall told her to pay attention in class. She felt assaulted (by both Seamus and Neville), embarrassed (Ginny's friends saw Seamus and her…you know), and worst of all – she felt confused. Her chaotic thoughts swam through her head in clutters. She couldn't focus. She would have walked into a street lamp if Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had not snatched her out of its way.
"Harry was looking for you," Lavender told Hermione, smiling. Hermione heard her, nodded and continued on, but it was five minutes later that she fully processed the information. Blushing heavily, Hermione went back to find Lavender.
"Um…sorry, but did Harry say where he was going?" Hermione asked. Lavender spoke without a moment of hesitation; you can just tell she made effort to commit it to memory. "Yeah, he said he was going to get a Butterbeer."
Hermione thanked her and once again headed down the busy dirt road toward the Three Broomsticks.
When Hermione stepped through the drink shop door, the warm, crowded atmosphere made her woozy. Her vision blurred and she swayed on her feet. Hermione gripped the door handle and steadied herself. Her vision cleared. She scanned the cramped stalls and tables. It took her a little while to locate her friends. Harry, Ron and Ginny sat at a small round table near the back of the shop. Hermione hurried toward them.
A smiling waiter appeared at her elbow as Hermione flopped onto an empty seat. The waiter left a glass of chilly Butterbeer in front of her and disappeared. Hermione's friends turned to look at her. Harry was anxious and fidgety. He greeted Hermione hurriedly, in a hushed tone.
"I have something important to tell you," Harry began, addressing his two companions and girlfriend. "Lupin sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore to relay to me."
Ginny and Ron's attentions snapped to Harry. This, they thought, must be some super important information. They didn't want to miss out. And because of this little mistake on their part, no one noticed Hermione's weary pose, shut eyes and pained expression. She was in a bit of shock from the latest 'harassment'.
Harry continued, oblivious. "As you all know, Lupin is undercover among the rioting werewolves in London's sewers. He's climbed the social ladder in their midst and became very close to a certain Fenir Greyback. Remember him?"
Ron grunted, screwing up his face. "How can I forget?"
Next to him, Hermione was gingerly rubbing her temples, trying to calm her still racing heart. She took a sip of her Butterbeer.
Harry nodded impatiently, "Well…Lupin just sent word that Greyback is in contact with Malfoy."
Chair legs scraped loudly, covering Ginny's gasps and Ron's "I knew it!" (Which is a lie, by the way.)
Hermione leapt up from her seat, covering her mouth with her sleeve she ran for the ladies room. Harry, Ron and Ginny stared after her. Ginny arched one eyebrow. She looked back at her brother and at her boyfriend. "Hold on," she told them, and followed her friend.
When Ginny got to the washroom only one stall was occupied, and sounds of retching came from within. Ginny spoke softly through the door. "You okay Hermione?"
Sounds of vomiting answered her.
Ginny waited patiently, brows crinkled in worry. A few minutes later, the door of the stall opened. The person who stepped out, however, was not Hermione. It was Pansy Parkinson. Ginny didn't even think. Her natural offences sprang up.
"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, her tone vile. Pansy looked surprised.
"What?" She frowned, looking confused.
"Oh. I thought you were just unpleasantly nasty and slutty beyond description. I didn't know you were deaf too!" Ginny said amiably, yet the venom was still audible in her tone.
Extreme shock is an understatement to the expression on Pansy's face. She let out a short gasp of astonishment.
"I beg your pardon?" Pansy gawked at her.
Ginny began to become impatient. She tapped her foot and rolled her eyes. Not wanting to waste time, Ginny moved away from Pansy and began checking the other stalls for Hermione, just in case.
Nothing. All the stalls were empty.
A bloodcurdling scream almost shattered Ginny's eardrums. She spun around.
Pansy stood pressed up against the white sink, staring into the mirror in front of her, hands clutching her face. "Oh no, oh no. No, no, no…no…" Pansy muttered, exasperated. She looked devastatingly frightened.
Ginny took two steps back. Her shoulder blades brushed the wall behind her. Hermione isn't here. She'd better make an exit. After all, Pansy Parkinson has been known to be quite unstable. Ginny slowly inched her way toward the door while keeping a wary eye on the now hysterical Pansy.
Before Ginny could make it to the door, however, Pansy twirled around. She covered her face with her sleeves and dashed for the exit. There was a loud thud as Pansy raced out. Ginny stood still. Loud shouting and sobbing (probably Pansy) erupted outside.
In barely a minute, the shouting subdued and Ginny peeked out the restroom door just in time to see Draco Malfoy forcefully escorting a sobbing but defiant Pansy out of Three Broomsticks. Ginny scratched her head and shrugged. She exited the restroom and trotted back to Harry and Ron.
---
Draco dragged her to Madam Puddifoot's. The overpowering scent of cinnamon swallowed her the moment she was pushed through the door. Hermione felt like she was going to faint.
Someone had put something disgusting (most likely Polyjuice Potion) in her Butterbeer, which she had never ordered, Hermione remembered with a start. Not only that, it was a waiter who gave it to her. Waiter? At Three Broomsticks?
Hermione's eyes widened as she thought. Only she wasn't Hermione anymore. The Polyjuice Potion turned her into Pansy Parkinson. (Remember that the next time you think you had a bad day.)
Hermione was bewildered by Ginny's insults and became a little traumatized when she saw herself in the mirror. She ran out of the restroom (thinking of hiding in her dormitory until the effects wore off) and crashed into Malfoy.
Coincidence? I think not.
Draco Malfoy had gripped her tightly by the wrist and dragged her off. He thinks she's Pansy, Hermione decided. That's going to be embarrassing. But how was she to get out of it? "I'm sorry, Malfoy. But, er…I'm under the influence of the Polyjuice Potion and I'm not really your girlfriend. I'm actually the big-haired bookworm you hate so much. So if you'd be so kind to let me go…?"
Yeah.
I don't think so.
Malfoy wouldn't believe her anyways, Hermione reasoned. She sat Pansy's body down in the chair Draco had drawn for her and folded Pansy's hands upon Pansy's lap. She's wait for Malfoy to leave to buy a drink and get the hell out of here.
No such luck: Madam Puddifoot herself brought them their drinks.
Hermione tensed in her seat and stared gloomily down at Pansy's shaking hands. Across from her, Draco sighed.
"I know I was a little harsh, Pansy, but you have to understand." Draco said softly. His voice was filled with the warmth and tenderness Hermione never knew he had. "It was a hard decision to make, and you've been so loyal to me…"
Hermione snorted. Ginny and her had caught Pansy and a Slytherin seventh year necking in the empty Charms classroom the year before.
Draco continued, undisturbed. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I just…I never loved you. I mean, I liked you a lot, but I never really loved you. I…I don't know…I couldn't."
Hermione wholeheartedly wished that she could record this little monologue and replay it for Pansy some time later.
"The whole 'dangerous task' and 'Dark Lord's business' excuse I made up, because I didn't want to hurt you. But you're hurting me." Draco's eyes were cast down toward the table. "I've just found out…I'm in love…with someone else…"
Hermione's throat tightened painfully. Uh oh.
"Wh-who?" Hermione managed to croak.
Draco looked up. The sincerity in his eyes terrified her. He met her eye and whispered, "Hermione Granger."
Hermione shot up from her seat, and in seconds was out the door, leaving a path of upturned chairs and spilled drinks in her wake.
Draco Malfoy sat back in his chair and smiled quietly to himself. This was the best day of his life.
---
A/N:
This chapter wasn't one of my favorites, so I procrastinated. Writing it was hell (you may have noticed from the lacking in quality). I promise the next one will be much better. Thank you very much for waiting.
Review, please.